Chapter 215: You're Making It Worse

Jessica puffs her lips out and frowns in a childish pout. She looks at the stained gauze and the stitches on Andrew's chest. The surgical site is still red and swollen, and a light yellow liquid seeps from the wound. Andrew sighs. 

"You have to sterilize it first," Andrew says, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "I thought you said you knew how to do this."

"I do," Jessica says.

She clumsily pours the sterilizing solution onto a cotton pad and dabs it on his chest. She squeezes the cotton too hard, and the cold liquid soaks the wound and trickles down his chest to his stomach. He flinches and glares up at her.

"Andrew, stop moving around," Jessica says, pressing the cotton even harder. "I'm almost done."

Andrew looks down at his stinging chest and sees that fresh blood has mixed with the sterilizing solution making a strange watery red color. Jessica reaches for another cotton pad, and Andrew grabs her arm.

"You're making it worse," he complains.

"Andrew, just deal with this for another minute," she says. "I trained with the family doctor before coming here. I know what I'm doing. Sometimes these sorts of things are messy as they heal."

"Jess, it's already been like twenty minutes, and you shouldn't be making me bleed," Andrew says.

"No, no, it's fine," she insists, wriggling her wrist free from his grip. "Now let me see, the next step is…" She trails off, clearly confused about the next step.

"The next step is applying the ointment," Andrew says with a sigh. "Really, I'd rather just have the doctor do it."

"Oh yes, right, of course," Jessica says.

She blots his chest dry and smears a huge blob of ointment onto the wound. She slowly rubs it in, getting it everywhere. The greasy ointment leaves dark stains on his silk shirt and his groans. He makes eye contact with a bodyguard laughing silently in the corner.

She takes a large wad of gauze and clumsily sticks it to his chest. Then she grabs the medical tape and begins to wrap the gauze. By the time she's done, she's used over half a roll of the tape, and the bandage makes a huge puffy spot under his shirt.

"Now that you've gotten to play doctor, I'll ask one of my men to drive you home," Andrew says. "As you can see, I'm doing just fine out here. You and Mom can stop worrying about me now."

"Yes, Mr. Clifford is on the steady mend," the guard says. "He has constant attention from his doctor, and the solitude is good for his recovery. Now it would be my personal pleasure to drive you home."

"I'm not going back," Jessica says. "I only just got here, and it took me forever to arrive. I can't believe you're trying to get rid of me, brother. Are you hiding something out here? Or maybe someone?"

Quick as a flash, Jessica jumps to her feet and begins searching the room. She pulls books from their shelves, opens drawers, and checks behind the curtains. Her shiny, scarlet coat looks like fire as she runs around the room, leaving everything she touches a mess. She yanked one of his desk drawers open, and Andrew groans.

"What's this, Andrew?" Jessica asks, dangling a dress and bra from her manicured fingers.

Andrew curses under his breath. He wishes he'd put Avery's clothes in a safer, more private place. He fights the urge to snatch them from Jessica's hands and shrugs casually.

"Who knows how that got there," he says.

"Spare me the crap," Jessica scoffs. "Lady's clothing doesn't just accidentally end up in a desk drawer. So why'd you put it there? Is there a naked woman hiding nearby, waiting to get her clothes back? Or maybe you're some sort of perv who gets off on sniffing women's clothing?" She looks again at the dress and giggles teasingly, "Or maybe you're the kind of man who likes to play dress-up?"

"Fine. If you insist on staying here, you can," Andrew says. "But, I have the stuff to do, so if you'll excuse me." He waves an open palm toward the study door.

Jessica tosses her hair and ignores the hint. She drops the dress and holds the white lace bra up top her own chest. She shimmies her shoulders and laughs. Seeing Avery's bra in his sister's hand makes Andrew wants to scream—it's just wrong.

"I'm not leaving until I get answers," Jessica says.

"Fine then. I'll go," Andrew says, standing up from the sofa.

"Andrew, wait!" Jessica shouts. "I promise to leave you alone if you'll help me find Jackson."

"Why do you want to find him?" Andrew asks. "The man ran away from you right after you married him. He's clearly not interested in you."

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Jessica's face flushes the same scarlet color as her coat. Her lower lip trembles, and she drops the bra. Andrew rubs his temples and curses himself for being so harsh with her. Crying women make him extremely uncomfortable, and Jessica's crying fits are legendary. 

"I know he doesn't want me," she says miserably. "I shouldn't have married him, but I was desperate for a husband, and you know I didn't have many options. I don't expect him to love me or anything, I just want everyone to stop talking about me and my marriage."

Andrew sits back down on the sofa and crosses his legs lazily. As far as he's concerned, it'd be better if Jackson stayed missing. But if Jackson reappears, it might create drama between his family and the Olivers. I could use that to my advantage, Andrew thinks.

"Okay, fine," he says. "I'll find your missing husband. You can go home, and I'll let you know when I have news."

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Jessica asks. "I know you're strengthening the mansion's defenses—once I leave, I might not be able to get back. You won't try to find Jackson. You'll just stay here playing with women's underwear or whatever it is you do."

"Whatever," Andrew snaps irritably. "Leave or stay, and I don't care."

"Great, I'll let you work in peace now," Jessica says. "Every single private eye I've hired has failed to find him. I hope you'll do better, or else we'll be spending a long time together."

After breakfast, Avery leans back on the leather sofa and stares at the pictures of the baby. She slid them behind the clear plastic in her wallet and runs her finger along with the smooth images. She wonders what the child's voice will sound like, what he or she will like, and what his or her first words will be — lucky stretches out next to her, resting his shaggy head on her lap.

She looks up to see Evan sitting in a velvet armchair. He's staring intently at her, and a small smile plays around the corners of his mouth. He catches her looking and stands up, crossing the space between them in three long strides. He tugs Lucky's collar and pulls the dog away from Avery. Lucky whimpers in protest.

"Quiet boy," Evan says, sitting down next to Avery.

"What are you doing?" Avery asks. She straightens up and slides away from Evan. "There's plenty of space on this sofa, and you don't need to sit closer."

"You didn't have a problem cuddling up with Lucky," Evan says.

He picks her up and positions her between his legs. He wraps his arms around her waist and leans back, pulling her with him, so she's resting on his strong chest. She stiffens and tries to break his grip.

"You have to keep your distance from me," Avery says. "What would your grandfather think if he saw us getting cozy like this?"

"My grandfather's out of town," Evan murmurs into her hair. "He never has to know."

Avery relaxes into the warmth of his body. Though there's nothing soft about him, he makes an excellent pillow. The soft rise and fall of his breathing are soothing, and she closes her eyes. Robert's nervous cough startles her, and she opens her eyes, trying to sit up.

"Sorry to bother you, sir," Robert says, offering him a tablet. "I just thought you'd want to know that Mr. Clifford sent you an email."

There are three pictures attached to the email. The first shows a fuzzy-headed baby. It has chubby cheeks and a cute pink mouth, but something about its eyes looks off. Avery squints and looks closer: they're Andrew's eyes. The picture predicts what her child would look like if Andrew was the father. She looks quickly at Evan and sees his knuckles go white as he grips the iPad tighter.

The next photo is a screenshot from testmymatch.com. Andrew has uploaded a photo of himself and a photo of her. Underneath the pictures, there's a large red cartoon heart. White letters inside the heart say 100% perfect match! The next photo is a screenshot from the same website with a picture of Evan instead of Andrew. A drawing of a broken black heart has replaced the red one. The heart says: 0% match—break up now!

"Well, what did you expect, Evan?" Avery asks. "You generated a baby photo with him and a chimpanzee and sent it to him. If you're going to act childish, you can't be surprised that he acts the same."

Evan ignores her and opens a web browser. He navigates to testmymatch.com and uploads a picture of himself and then another of Avery. The website loads, and then a red heart appears 90% perfect match. Avery rolls her eyes and takes the tablet from Evan.

"Honestly, Evan, these websites are total nonsense," she says. "They don't analyze anything—they just spit out random results."

"I know," Evan says with a smirk. "I wonder how long Andrew spent refreshing it until he got the results he wanted."

Avery stretches and stands. "I need to go get ready," she says. "I have a date with Sophie Johnson at noon. "

"You're going out again?" Evan asks, sounding disappointed. "What if I send someone to go get her and bring her here? I don't want you to tire yourself too much."

"The fresh air will be good for the baby and me," Avery says. "I've been cooped up in the mansion for two days, and I need to get out."

"I'll let you go, but I want something in return," Evan says. "Give me a kiss."

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